


Happily Ever After

by PrettyCalypso



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: AU, Bachelor Ian, Explicit Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Producer Mickey, Reality TV, Unreal AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-10
Updated: 2016-06-10
Packaged: 2018-07-14 06:02:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7156484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrettyCalypso/pseuds/PrettyCalypso
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mickey is the shark producer of a "Bachelor" type Reality TV.<br/>Ian is the hot, rich suitor looking for love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Happily Ever After

**Author's Note:**

> I started watching UnREAL a few days ago and I could totally picture Ian and Mickey in that setting, so I wrote this. I don't know if it has ever been done before, but this is my version of Bachelor!Ian.
> 
> Little back story: in this fic, the Gallaghers aren't from Chicago, and they're filthy rich.
> 
> And I apologize in advance for the offensive stuff said by some characters, be aware that they are absolutely not my personal opinion.
> 
> This was supposed to be 15K originally, but I cut a few scenes, especially one that made me very uncomfortable because it was just straight up sexual assault. So the fic ended up being only 8K, which was disappointing to me considering I literally spent three days writing it. So let's hope the quality will top the quantity.

 

Thick moans and groans filled the large room as Mickey rode the perfect man lying underneath him. His fingers sinking in the soft white skin of the other man's chest. The slight sound of skin slapping against skin only competing with the men's heavy breaths to fill the silence. Mickey stretched his neck backwards and sped up his rhythm, riding the man a little bit harder, bringing the tip of his cock slamming against his prostate, sweat dropping down his back, his thighs starting to burn.

 

“Fuck. Fuck.”

 

The man gripped at Mickey's hips, controlling his movements, bringing him down harder on his cock with every other thrust. Both pairs of eyes were shut in pleasure, muffled groans escaping their throats. Mickey swallowed dryly, doing his best to speed up even more, completely bouncing on the other man's cock by now, forcing it inside of him over and over again.

 

“Right there. Fuck yes!”

 

His partner brought his hand to Mickey's dick and started pumping it, bringing the man over the edge. And Mickey spilled in the hand and over his lover's chest just seconds before the other man spilled into the condom, buried in Mickey's ass.

 

“Aaaah...”

 

The two men shook through their orgasms, holding on to each other for dear life. Mickey pushed his short nails one more time into the fresh skin, before he let go and collapsed onto the other man's chest, letting himself being wrapped in strong, warm arms.

 

________________

 

Mickey woke up as the first rays of sunrise started to pour through the curtains. The man spooning him was still breathing heavily, sign he was still asleep. Mickey detached himself carefully from his arms and stood up from the bed. He dressed quickly and exited the room just as the device on his belt started to emit sizzling sounds.

 

“Milkovich! Drag your ass here! We have a show to produce!”

 

The man sighed loudly and grabbed the walkie-talkie, pushing the button allowing him to be heard, before talking into the microphone.

 

“On my way.”

 

He walked through the arches of the beautiful Californian villa, nodding in lieu of greeting to the members of the crew setting up for the day. As usual, he tried his best to avoid the cameras. He knew they weren't filming him, they didn't care about him, but the lens pointed at him always made him nervous. He made a detour by the food trailer to grab a coffee – strong, black, the only way he liked it – before reaching his destination. The “Control Tower”, as he liked to call it, was already buzzing with activity, all the behind-the-scene ants getting busy for their day of work.

 

“Where the hell were you?” Quinn, a petite, yet threatening woman yelled at him as he walked in.

 

Mickey shrugged and sipped some of his coffee.

 

“Woke up late.”

 

The woman shook her head but didn't insist, Mickey was her best producer and they both knew it, so she never gave him too much shit for being late, or doing stuff his own way, as long as the show ended up the way she wanted it. Mickey sat down on his usual chair, next to the two other producers already there, and their boss started to move around the whiteboard.

 

“Alright team. Five more weeks to go. Seven contestants left. And one of them needs to be out by the end of the week. But in the meantime, our suitor needs to pick with which guy he's gonna home to meet the family. What are thinking?”

 

“Brad is totally into him, and they already shared some heated moments during the last party.” Aline pitched in, trying to sell her last contestant still in the run.

 

“Brad is a slut.” Quinn replied. “We need some traditional family values for this one. Someone the average American can relate to with a family the bored housewife will be dying over.”

 

“What about Josh?” Craig tried. “He's nice and quiet, I'm sure there's an interesting background here.”

 

“Josh has barely said two words since the beginning of the competition.” Quinn spatted. “I'm even surprised he's still here. Nobody will know who he is!”

 

“What about Caleb?” Mickey suggested, knowing his contestant was probably the stronger of the batch. “Dad's a pastor with a big family to meet. And I think the guy is some kind of artist, I'm sure he'll have a lot of stuff to show our suitor.”

 

Quinn pointed his pen at him before writing a big red cross under Caleb's picture on the board.

 

“Caleb. I like that. The guy is hot, but not a slut. He's nice, but not quiet. And the pastor thing is perfect. Plus we satisfy the Black viewers. Where is he from already?”

 

“Chicago.”

 

“Aren't you also from Chicago?”

 

Mickey shrugged.

 

“Not the same neighborhoods.”

 

“Whatever.” Quinn waved. “Get our suitor to pick him. Go, go! Get to work people!”

 

________________

 

Mickey knocked three times on the glass door before it opened. Ian was wearing a simple black shirt with black jeans, but he was handsome as usual. He smiled broadly while seeing Mickey and opened the door wider. The producer walked in and closed the door behind himself.

 

“So,” Mickey started before Ian could say anything. “Have you picked the guy you want to go home with yet?”

 

The redhead's face fell a little at Mickey's professional voice, but his smile didn't disappear.

 

“I don't know.” he shrugged. “David seems nice, we have a good connection I guess.”

 

“David is okay.” Mickey nodded. “But he's kinda boring, ain't he?”

 

“Who are you suggesting then?”

 

“You know you're the one who's gonna make the decision in the end, right?”

 

“Yeah,” Ian smirked. “But I also know the network has a favorite. So who is he?”

 

Mickey sighed. Ian was probably the smartest, less self-centered suitor he had ever had to work with, but it was what made his charm, right?

 

“Caleb could be a great match.” the producer explained. “Smart, kind, good chemistry, good background, and hot just the right amount to be husband material and not just fuck buddy.”

 

Ian nodded.

 

“Okay, Caleb is it then.”

 

“Great,” Mickey smiled. “Be on set in ten for the announcement.”

 

Mickey reached for the door again, but just before he could open it, Ian put his hand on the knob, crowding the producer against the glass.

 

“I'll go with Caleb,” the redhead murmured against Mickey's ear. “But you and I both know who I really want in the end.”

 

The producer closed his eyes for a second, letting Ian's soft breath against his skin send a shiver along his spine. And he shook it off, taking a deep breath and opening his eyes.

 

“We already talked about this. You have a contract with the show, you need to go through with it if you don't want to be sued.”

 

“But you'll wait for me in the end, right?” Ian almost pouted. “I hate to wake up alone in bed like you're doing to me every morning...”

 

Mickey pecked the redhead's lips quickly, angling his head so that the camera on the wall wouldn't catch it.

 

“Yes, I'll wait for you.” he promised. “And if you want to see me in the morning, wake up earlier, some people, unlike you, have to work. Now go announce your two-days long date with Caleb.”

 

________________

 

It was Mickey's seventh season on Happily Ever After. He had started as a grumpy PA, and was now a shark producer, one of the best in the business. And even though the show had been presenting gay suitors with a bunch of hot gay contestants for all these years, Mickey had never crossed the line with any of them. And then arrived Ian Gallagher. Middle child of a newly rich family, who had gone wild for the last few years, and was trying to polish his image by doing the show. Nothing new under the sun. Except Ian was kind, and attentive, confident just enough, and who certainly didn't like to play by the rules of this stupid show, despising it almost as much as Mickey did. And cherry on top, Ian was hot, and not boring cliché hot like most of the suitors this show had had, but perfect hot with his red hair and his enigmatic green eyes. The chemistry between him and Mickey had been there right from the beginning. And Mickey had fought it, he had fought Ian's advances and his own feelings with all he had, but in the end he had found himself powerless in front of his alien-looking giant, and had caved in. They had just kissed first, while Mickey still tried to convince Ian to focus on the show and on all of those men who were there just for him, but the redhead couldn't give two shits about them, and had succeeded in convincing Mickey to join him into his bed at night. They were now at two weeks and a half of secretly pseudo-dating, and one week of sneaking around, hiding the cameras under a towel and fucking like rabbits every single night; and the butterflies in Mickey's stomach were only growing bigger. But he still had a show to lead to an end, and Ian couldn't breach his contract, these things were rock solid in legal terms, and the network had an army of lawyers flying around the candidates, making sure they didn't fuck up the season. And Mickey needed for one of his contestants to win, because, as little as he liked to admit it, he needed the money, and especially the big cash bonus coming with Ian choosing one of his candidates in the final round.

 

________________

 

Quinn had sent Mickey on the Chicago trip with Ian and Caleb, two camera teams, and the command to “film everything all the time”. She wanted “steamy, but also cute, and most of all sell me love”, overall the order was “usable footage to make great reality TV”. Mickey's specialty, and he was only being modest here.

 

First stop: Caleb's cousin's wedding. They barely had time to check-in the hotel at their arrival in Chicago that Ian was already thrown into the lion den in a festival of polite greetings and fake smiles. As Mickey was expecting, Ian pulled it through great. Between the people only wanting to get on camera, the people who tried to hit on him, and the few people genuinely happy to meet him, the redhead made Mickey's job easy by being his natural kind self. The only obstacle in their way, the only person Mickey couldn't quite figure out, was Caleb's dad, a nice-looking pastor full on passive aggressive bullshit. This was not the dad they were expecting, not the dad they had signed up for. The producer dragged his contestant apart when the guests started dancing.

 

“The hell is up with your dad?” he tried his best not to yell. “He knows you're gay right?”

 

“Yeah, he knows.” Caleb said, trying to wave it away like it was no big deal.

 

“So what's going on?” Mickey sighed. “We're not making great TV here, and, more important, Ian is feeling very uncomfortable. I don't think you want that.”

 

Caleb looked around awkwardly.

 

“My family is a bunch of polite homophobes.” he finally blurted out. “They pretend to be too religious to notice, but I'm trying to make it a little harder for them to ignore. That's why I signed up to be on the show.”

 

Mickey sighed again, deeper this time, and ran a hand over his face.

 

“Okay. I can try something with that.”

 

Caleb shot him a small 'thank you' smile, and Mickey sent his away, calling for Ian instead.

 

“What's up?” the redhead asked with his special 'Mickey smile', the smile that made Mickey's heart melt into pieces.

 

The producer wanted nothing more in that moment than to drag the redhead back to the hotel to rip that designer suit off and drop to his knees, but unfortunately he had a job to do, so he shook the dirty thoughts out of his head and put his 'work voice' on.

 

“You need to put on a small show with Caleb.”

 

“A show?” Ian repeated, his eyebrows raising in a perfect imitation of Mickey's most noticeable physical trait.

 

“Yeah, be sexy with him, dance, kiss, whatever, just make it look good for the camera, and try to piss the father off at the same time.”

 

“Got it.” the redhead agreed, but his smile dropped a little, like every time Mickey asked him to kiss, or do anything remotely romantic with a contestant.

 

He would probably never admit it out loud for as long as the season ran, but Mickey honestly hated doing that. And watching Ian, once again, with one of these guys, was making the producer's stomach turn. The redhead gave his best dance moves, rutting against the other man, touching him languorously. And then he went for the kiss. The hot, perfect kiss the show needed. The hot, perfect kiss Caleb's dad seemed to hate. The hot, perfect kiss Mickey had to dig his nails into his palms watching to keep himself from going on camera to separate the two men. When they pulled away, Ian waited a beat before looking at the camera and at Mickey with 'was it okay?' look on. Mickey nodded, because, really, he couldn't have asked the redhead to do it again, even if the kiss had been horrible, which, fortunately – or unfortunately, Mickey wasn't sure anymore – it hadn't.

 

________________

 

Three little knocks on the door. The signal. Mickey rose from his bed and went to welcome Ian inside his hotel room. A whole night of them together, without any camera to hide, or crew or cast to avoid, Mickey should have been over the moon, but there was something unsettling in his stomach since they had landed in Chicago that very morning. He tried to tell himself it was just because of Ian and Caleb two-days long date, but he knew there was something more, something deeper, something about this city and all the memories of it making him sick to his stomach.

 

“Hey.” Ian greeted him, dropping a tender kiss on his lips.

 

Mickey smiled, but didn't return the kiss.

 

“Is something wrong? Is it because of Caleb and the wedding?”

 

Mickey shook his head.

 

“No, I don't care about him. We're just making a show here.”

 

Ian grabbed Mickey's hand and lead them both to sat on the edge of the bed.

 

“Wanna talk to me?”

 

Mickey looked into these beautiful green eyes, only to find genuine interest and concern, nothing like what he saw when Ian was talking to the contestants.

 

“You're a good one, you know that?” the producer smiled, running his free hand lightly on the redhead's cheek. “Not sure I deserve you.”

 

“Why would you say that?”

 

“Because it's true.” Mickey sighed. “I'm a shark producer with crude knuckles tattoo and a bad attitude on a show I hate only because I need the money to reimburse the shit tone of debts I accumulated trying to get out of the South Side all those years ago. And you're...”

 

Mickey made a hand movement toward Ian's stunning body.

 

“You're a rich, hot, with a ton of men at your feet, and still manage to be that kind, genuine guy.”

 

Ian chuckled.

 

“A rich, hot guy who needs to do this stupid show to clean his image after years of partying, of booze and drugs, waking up to a new guy in my bed every morning because I couldn't handle my bipolar diagnosis. Illness you have gone out of your way to hide to my 'potential future husbands' by the way...”

 

It was Mickey's turn to chuckle.

 

“I'm not perfect Mick.” Ian added. “But the way you see me makes me want to become that man just so I don't disappoint you.”

 

Fuck, that man was good. Mickey knew all the contestants looked at him like this perfect prince charming, but they only saw the tip of the iceberg. The producer had had a glimpse of the all package, and he was starting to believe in the crap their show was selling – yes, true love and 'happily ever after'.

 

“We have some free time tomorrow morning.” Mickey suddenly said. “I was thinking about going into my old neighborhood. You wanna come?”

 

Ian nodded his head eagerly, looking genuinely interested by the idea, so Mickey kissed him hard on the lips. God, this man would be the death of him.

 

________________

 

“This was your house growing up?” Ian asked as the two men stood in front of the old decrepit brick house nearly under the L.

 

“Right, I forgot you grew up in a mansion!” Mickey teased. “So yes, this is actually what normal people live in. I'll give it to you though: this house is particularly crappy.”

 

The redhead shove the producer on the shoulder.

 

“Come on Mick, stop teasing me and show me inside!”

 

Mickey stilled, his heart skipping a beat.

 

“I don't know if we should.”

 

“Why?”

 

Mickey raised his head to meet Ian's questioning eyes. He wasn't ashamed of his house, he didn't care if the place looked like a dump, and if the inside was worse than the outside; no, he was afraid of what, _who_ , he would find inside. He had left home without never looking back almost nine years ago, and he hadn't contacted his family ever since. He had thought about it, but never grew the balls to do it. His only regret in life had been to leave without his sister, and he was worried about her every single day, but he never called her. Who knew where she was now? Maybe she was off in New York being this very successful business woman, and Mickey would never know.

 

He felt Ian grab his hand, giving it a light squeeze.

 

“We don't have to go in if you're not ready.” he said softly.

 

Mickey took a deep breath and laced his fingers with Ian's.

 

“No. I can do this. I need to do this.”

 

And he crossed the street, dragging his redhead millionaire bachelor with him. The first thing Mickey had noticed about the house was that all the windows had been fixed, and the paint was freshly done. The second thing was that the front door was actually locked. The door was never locked in the Milkovich house. But whatever, it just forced Mickey to knock. The two men waited for exactly thirteen seconds. Mickey felt his palm sweat in Ian's hand, but he didn't want to let go of the reassuring hold. And suddenly the door flied open to expose a beautiful woman with deep blue eyes and dirty blond hair styled in a messy bun on her head, wearing a plain white T shirt and what looked like comfy yoga pants.

 

“Oh my god.” she articulated before her mouth dropped open.

 

“Hi sis.” Mickey tried to say with an awkward smile.

 

The woman looked between her long lost brother and the tall redhead accompanying him, her eyes traveling the scene a few times, and finally she punched Mickey hard on the arm.

 

“You dick! You disappear for years without telling us anything, and suddenly you're here and all you say is 'hi sis'?! You're an asshole Mickey Milkovich!!!”

 

“Sorry.” Mickey tried again, very sheepish this time. “I know I should have called, Mandy, or even taken you with me. But I didn't, and I'm sorry. I'm here now though.”

 

“Yeah, I can see that.” Mandy snickered. “And with...”

 

She gestured vaguely toward Ian, before pausing her hand movement and looking at him more closely.

 

“Aren't you the guy from TV? The Bachelor or something?”

 

“The gay version of that actually.” Ian supplied. “ _Happily Ever After_.”

 

Mandy paused again and her eyes dropped to their still holding hands.

 

“Holy shit.”

 

Mickey's smile was real this time.

 

“Can we come in?”

 

Mandy hesitated for a beat, but she eventually opened the door wider. And here was Mickey's third surprise. His old house looked... great. The paint was fresh and colorful, no more white washed-out walls. The decoration was perfect and tasteful, with entirely new furniture and great lightning. The producer was in awe.

 

“What happened here?”

 

“I own the house now.” Mandy said proudly.

 

Mickey pivoted on his feet, taking it all in.

 

“You do? … How?”

 

“Dad died. Jaime is in jail, for a long time. Colin fucked out somewhere a few years ago, kinda like you, except he's probably dead in a ditch somewhere, or in a crack house. And because we couldn't reach you, Iggy and I made a deal. He moved in with his wife almost five years ago now, and I bought his share of the house. The neighborhood is really nice now, really up and coming, you know with gentrification and all. I cut myself a sweet deal, I'm telling ya.”

 

Mickey had released Ian's hand during Mandy's little speech and sat on a nearby chair.

 

“Dad's dead?” was all he could say.

 

He felt Ian soothingly stroking his back, and Mandy's eyes softened.

 

“Yeah. It was like two years after you left. As I said, we could find you so...”

 

Mickey shook his head. He wasn't angry at his siblings for not being able to give him that piece of information. But he was angry at himself for not checking in earlier and stay scared of a corpse for the past seven years.

 

“How?” he asked, his mouth dry.

 

“A drug deal gone wrong.” Mandy supplied. “How else?”

 

She had this smile on her face, and that glow that really showed she was a new woman who had been free of this monster for years now. And that only made Mickey happy. He wasn't in the same state as his sister yet, but watching her he knew he would be one day.

 

They stayed for another hour, sharing stories of the past that almost scared Ian away, laughing about the present, and making promises about the future. Mickey learned that he had, at least, two nephews and one niece: Iggy and his wife had a girl and a boy, and Mandy herself had a son, a two and a half years old little Connor, currently staying at her ex-husband's with whom she shared custody and had still a friendly relationship with. The woman talked about her job as a freelance graphic designer, and Mickey told about Hollywood and being a producer for a reality TV show he hated. And when the time came for the two men to go back to the hotel, Mandy hugged her brother tightly and made him swear to come back soon. She then directed her arms toward Ian and hugged him just as hard.

 

“I don't know what your deal is with my brother,” she whispered into his ear. “But take care of him. And if you don't, if you hurt him in any way, I'll cut your balls off.”

 

The redhead, having heard enough Milkovich stories for the day, nodded eagerly. He did not want Mickey's sister on his bad side. Never.

 

________________

 

The car ride back to the hotel was silent, both men looking at the outside through their respective tainted windows. Mickey had felt good during their time with Mandy, but now he was worried about all the information they had given Ian. He was afraid the redhead would run away as fast as he could from ex-thug Mickey who used to sell drugs and threaten people to obey to the crazy orders of an abusive father who spent most of his time drunk or high. Yes, Ian had baggage of his own, but none of them compared to Mickey's, and the producer had been disappointed by men leaving him for what he used to be too many times. Or even leaving him for what he was now. He had indeed gotten out of Chicago and had started to make a life for himself, but the shadow of his father was still hanging over his head, and his hold on him could still reappear from times to times.

 

Ian slid his fingers in between Mickey's, making the producer turn his head to meet his eyes. The redhead was looking at him with a soft smile, and his thumb was stroking slowly Mickey's hand.

 

“So, your father?” Ian asked hesitantly. “You wanna talk about it?”

 

Mickey shook his head, not detaching his eyes from Ian's.

 

“Not really.”

 

“You're gonna be okay?”

 

Mickey looked down at their intertwined fingers.

 

“I will be.” he said with a smile; and he knew it was the truth.

 

________________

 

“Alright team!” Quinn's voice resonated through the “Control Tower” on the next Monday morning. “We need sex this week!”

 

“Sex?” Mickey asked from where he was monitoring the screens. “I thought our suitor was here to clean his playboy image?”

 

“Yes,” Quinn agreed with a condescending tone. “But our viewers want nudity and sex. So if we want to keep on top of the ratings this week, we're gonna have to give them a little something. Aline, Craig, prep your contestants, especially Slutty Brad, I want him on top of his game. Mickey, go talk to our suitor.”

 

The producer found Ian lying with his eyes closed, and the sun illuminating his face, on one of the lawn chairs near the pool.

 

“Whatcha doing?” the black-haired man asked, taking a seat next to the suitor.

 

“Waiting for time to go by.” the redhead answered without opening his eyes. “We have no TV, no Internet, no phone, so I'm keeping busy however I can.”

 

“You could read.” Mickey suggested.

 

“I am.” Ian replied, pointing to the huge Shakespeare anthology hidden under his chair. “But Quinn told me I look too smart when I do.”

 

Mickey chuckled.

 

“I'll find you some comic books or magazines.”

 

Ian finally opened his eyes, and turned his head to smile at Mickey.

 

“You're here to ask me something, aren't you?”

 

“Unfortunately yes.” Mickey sighed. “Quinn wants sex.”

 

“With me or you?”

 

“On camera, dumbass!” the producer laughed. “She wants you and one of the contestants to get a little action going.”

 

Ian raised his body in a sitting position, and turned on his chair so he was fully facing Mickey, his expression now completely serious.

 

“You want me to have sex with one of the guys?”

 

“No, of course I don't.” Mickey sighed. “But you might need to get a little handsy. Get close to a guy, pretend, and I'll make it believable for the viewers. It's my job after all.”

 

Ian nodded reluctantly.

 

“Okay. If that's what you want... Or rather what Quinn wants.”

 

________________

 

About three hours later, the whole team was gathered around one of the screens when Mickey came back from his coffee break.

 

“Oh, look at that! He's really going for it!” Maddison, Quinn's young PA, said in awe.

 

“Good job on the prepping!” Craig laughed, patting Aline's arm.

 

Mickey took the few steps he needed to be able to catch the action going on on screen. It was showing Ian, in the pool, with Slutty Brad, and both men were not only kissing, but also getting very... touchy. Mickey clenched his hand around his coffee cup so hard half of the hot liquid spilled out of it.

 

“Is this real?” he asked, tried to keep his voice light and upbeat, like everyone else's.

 

“Yep.” Quinn answered with a proud smile. “Aline told Brad to go for it and to not take no for an answer. We needed to loosen up this little prince charming of ours.”

 

“So Brad is basically forcing him?” Mickey repeated, trying his best to keep his anger at bay.

 

“Our nice little suitor looks like he's enjoying it though!” Aline said, her perverse eyes still glued on the screen. “Look at that, it's so hot, exactly what we needed!”

 

________________

 

Ian wasn't really sure how he had ended up in this situation. When he saw Brad jumping into the pool, he thought about Mickey's advice and decided to join him. At first, he was just being flirty, touching Brad lightly, trying to be sexy and making the other man want him. Then he didn't refuse the kiss Brad drop onto his lips, he hesitated when he felt Brad's tongue pushing against his closed lips, but he ultimately went for it. But after that, Brad grabbed his cock, and not even through his swimsuit, he literally slid his hand inside the piece of clothing and starting stroking.

 

“What the fuck are you doing?” the redhead asked, pushing away from the contestant.

 

Brad just smirked and latched his mouth on Ian's neck, gripping at his hips with his other hand and refusing to let go. Ian looked around and caught the eye of a cameraman, who gave him a thumbs-up. Two cameras were pointed at them, not loosing one second of the action, giving Quinn and the viewers exactly what they wanted. The redhead sighed and his eyes went back to Brad. He wouldn't reciprocate the sloppy hand-job Brad was giving him, but he could at least look like he was enjoying it, play the game, that's what he was here for after all. So he closed his eyes, and tried his best to picture something else than Slutty Brad having his hands all over him.

 

________________

 

When Mickey joined Ian in his room that night, he found the redhead lying in his bed, in only his boxers, eyes wide open, looking at the ceiling. The producer checked that the camera on the wall was covered with a towel, before climbing on the bed to sit against the headboard.

 

“Hey. You okay?” he asked, running a hand through the soft red hair.

 

“You told me it would be fake.” Ian answered, his voice barely above a whisper.

 

“I know. It was all Quinn and Aline, I didn't know, and I couldn't really do anything to stop it.”

 

“Brad is very bad with his hands...” Ian confessed.

 

Mickey stopped the movement of his hand.

 

“On the footage it does look like you're into it...”

 

Mickey looked down at Ian to find the redhead staring at him with wide eyes.

 

“I wasn't.”

 

The redhead sat up and leaned in to pressed his forehead against Mickey's.

 

“I was thinking about you all along, only you.”

 

Ian kissed Mickey's lips chastely.

 

“I imagined it was your hand between my legs.”

 

He kissed his cheek.

 

“You stroking my dick.”

 

His jawline.

 

“You're the only one who can get me hard.”

 

His neck.

 

“Who can make me come.”

 

A low moan escaped Mickey's throat, and the man let his hand travel from Ian's hair to the small of his back, his fingers trailing delicately along his skin, tracing the outline of his spine.

 

“I was thinking about sucking your dick.” Ian continued, opening Mickey's shirt button by button, and pecking kisses on his chest.

 

“Do it.” Mickey breathed, his nails digging into Ian's skin.

 

The redhead raised his head to send a blinding smirk in Mickey's direction. He unbuttoned the producer's pants and pulled the zipper down without leaving his blue gaze. He then crawled backward onto the bed until he was facing Mickey's crotch, and made a quick job of getting rid of the clothes that were in the way. The redhead licked his lips when Mickey's already hard dick sprung free, and sucked on the exposed flesh of his pelvis while settling his hand on the producer's hips. Mickey exhaled heavily and put his hand into Ian's hair once again, running it from the long strands on the top, to the shorter in the back of his head, before curling his fingers there, half holding his neck. The redhead made sure the shape of his mouth was imprinted where he had been sucking before he pulled away, and sent another deadly smile to Mickey, who was intently watching his every move. Ian wrapped his hand around the producer's hard member and pumped slowly a few times, while teasingly caressing the tip with his tongue. Mickey emitted this impatient little sound Ian was starting to be familiar with by now, so he licked lightly a couple of more times, before bobbing his head to swallow as much as he could in one go. Mickey fully groaned this time and broke the eye contact he had with Ian to throw his head back against the pillow. Ian smiled around the dick as best as he could, and squeezed a little at the base with the hand he had still resting there. When Mickey's eyes were back on him, the redhead started to suck a steady pace, stroking with his hand the part he couldn't fit in his mouth. Mickey's grip on his hair was getting tighter, and Ian kept him from pushing back with his other hand solidly set across his hip. Mickey moaned, and groaned, trying his best not to thrust up into the heat of Ian's mouth.

 

“Fuck. Ian. Keep doing. Aaah... just like that.”

 

Ian hollowed his cheeks, sucking just a little bit harder and bobbing his head just a little bit faster. And Mickey hummed, and grunted, forcing his eyes to stay open and set on Ian's black pupils. The redhead's own cock was now straightening his boxers, aching, and screaming from neglect, so he positioned himself a little more comfortably on the bed, and started to rut discreetly against the sheets. He took his hand off of Mickey's dick to slide it under the black-haired man's ass, pressing slightly at the entrance. Mickey let out a deep throaty sound when he felt it and arched his back off the bed.

 

“Oh fuuuck...”

 

Ian hinted something of a smile again, and pushed the finger deeper while he redirected his lips to the tip of Mickey's dick. The producer tugged on his hair with more force than intended.

 

“I'm gonna come...”

 

Ian hummed, and it sent Mickey over the edge, throwing his head back against the pillow, and coming down Ian's throat, his fingers holding at the red hair for dear life. Ian kept sucking him through his orgasm, making sure he was completely spent before pulling off. Mickey's hands on the suitor became softer and he caressed his face gently.

 

“You want me to...?” he asked once his breathing came back to normal, his right hand showing vaguely Ian's lower half.

 

The redhead shook his head sheepishly, and adjusted himself in his already soaked boxers.

 

“I might have... came in my pants like a horny teenager...” he confessed with a shy smile, making Mickey smirk.

 

________________

 

The end of the season was nearing, only two weeks left, and three contestants fighting for Ian's heart. The redhead had managed to avoid any new sexual interaction with the other men, at best he was only kissing them languorously. But he knew that tonight he had to choose which candidate would go home, and which candidate would spend the night with him, and it was making him more than nervous, because neither him nor Mickey had found a solution to keep the _'night of love'_ from happening. Ian's playboy days were behind him now, and he wanted to sleep with nobody else but Mickey, he wanted to be faithful to that man, _'happily ever after'_. It was ironic that the purpose of the show, _'finding true love'_ , was actually the one thing keeping the redhead from playing the game, because as days and weeks went by he was growing more and more certain Mickey was the one and only man he needed, and would probably be needing, for the rest of his life.

 

Two hours before the recording of Ian's decisions, he was called into Quinn's office, and as he sat on the edge of a comfy sofa, he was faced with the hard-to-please producer, as well as the creator of the show – a man Ian had only met once before.

 

“Ian.” Quinn said with an unfamiliar smile. “How do you feel about tonight?”

 

The redhead nodded shyly.

 

“Okay, I guess.”

 

“Do you know who you're gonna send home tonight?”

 

Ian shrugged.

 

“I'm not sure. Maybe Tyler...”

 

The producer and the creator looked at each other, before looking back at their suitor.

 

“Good, good.” the creator said – Jay, if Ian wasn't mistaken.

 

Okay, so Tyler it was apparently, it was not like Ian actually cared about the candidates. But it didn't look like the end of the conversation, Quinn and Jay exchanged another look, before Quinn turned back to Ian.

 

“Look, the thing is: we need a wedding.”

 

Ian's breath caught in his throat.

 

“A wedding?”

 

“Yes. We only did that once before, in season four,” Quinn explained. “But the ratings for this year are terrible, and the network wants a live wedding for next week's finale. And we need you to marry Caleb, for the Black viewers that'll bring us. Are we good?”

 

Ian's mouth gaped open. A wedding. Live. On TV. Next week. With Caleb. Holy fucking shit. His brain went blank for a few seconds, before he nodded dumbfoundely, looking for an answer to give to Quinn and Jay. Nothing life saving came to mind, but a small, almost insignificant now, idea popped up.

 

“Okay.” he said. “I'll do it. I'll choose Caleb and... marry him. But I want something in return.”

 

Quinn sighed, but still nodded.

 

“What do you want?”

 

“I don't want to have sex with any of the contestant before my wedding night. Not even during tonight's _'night of love'_ , I want it cancel.”

 

Quinn looked angry.

 

“Why that? It's one of our best rated nights!”

 

 _Because I don't want to cheat on Mickey..._ Ian wanted to scream at the top of his lungs.

 

“Because I did this show to polish my playboy image.” he said instead. “Sleeping around with guys doesn't make me look good, while a _'no sex before marriage'_ rule could actually be great for me.”

 

Quinn seemed about to disagree, but, thankfully, Jay intervened before she could open her mouth.

 

“Done. The _'night of love'_ is cancel. We'll get more audience with that deal than the other way around anyway.”

 

________________

 

Mickey found Ian in the small woods surrounding the property, sitting on a rock facing the blue lake going into the Californian mountains. The producer had found the suitor here on numerous occasions, every time the show became a little too much for Ian, he came in this peaceful place to get some air and much needed alone time. And tonight was no exception. Tyler had left the show, following Ian's choice, an hour earlier, and Quinn had told Mickey about the redhead's impending marriage to Caleb. The producer sat on the rock next to Ian's.

 

“You okay?”

 

“No.” the redhead answered, not detaching his eyes from the lake. “I'm suppose to marry a guy next week because a stupid TV show decided so. And I can't say no or they'll sue me for breach of contract. I don't even know why I came here in the first place.”

 

Mickey didn't say anything. They didn't need a reminder, they both knew why Ian had signed up to be on the show, and why Mickey was working on the show, and that they both hated it with their guts, but were both prisoners of the giant absurd machine that was reality TV.

 

“We could run away.” Ian suddenly suggested, turning to Mickey with his green eyes shining with the excitement of a child entering an amusement park for the first time.

 

“No we couldn't.” the producer stated, being the responsible parent here. “They would still sue us, and I don't wanna be a runaway criminal somewhere in Mexico just because we both flew the set of _Happily Ever After_.”

 

“So what? You want me to marry Caleb?” Ian screamed with anger.

 

“No, I don't fucking want you to marry him!” Mickey shouted back. “I will think of something.”

 

“You always say that, but you never do! I had to make out with Slutty Brad in the pool because you didn't do anything, and I had to negotiate my own no sex rule because you didn't do anything! And now I'm gonna marry some random guy a major TV network forced upon me because you won't do anything!”

 

“I will.” Mickey insisted, his voice almost desperate. “I promise.”

 

Ian shook his head, defeated.

 

“Don't bother. Your job is more important than me, I get it.”

 

He stood up and started to walk back toward the mansion, before he turned back briefly to face Mickey one last time.

 

“And I'd like to sleep alone tonight.”

 

________________

 

The church was buzzing with people, everyone doing their best to get the place ready for tomorrow's wedding. And Ian's stomach had been tight in a knot for a week now. He was wearing his best suit yet, and had to announce his choice of husband on live TV in twenty-five minutes. He had barely spoken to Mickey since that night at the lake, just the minimum amount required for a normal producer/suitor relationship, and Ian was missing his grumpy lover. He had spent the last six days trying to find a solution not to marry Caleb, but nothing came to mind, except for running away, and Mickey had been right about that, it was a bad idea. So Ian stayed at the mansion and got ready for his beautiful wedding and his happily ever after love story with a man he barely knew.

 

“Nervous?” Lisa, the nice make-up artist asked as she was applying his foundation.

 

The redhead managed the difficult exercise of nodding without moving his head too much.

 

“Marriage is supposed to be the best of your life, huh?” the girl added. “I'd be nervous too. But you're lucky, both contestants are absolutely adorable. And super sexy, so yay for that!”

 

Ian hinted a smile. Maybe she was right after all.

 

“You already have a favorite?”

 

“I'm not suppose to say.”

 

“I know. But between you and me, it's gonna be Caleb right? You already met his family and all. And he's a great match.”

 

Ian didn't have time to find a good answer to that, that Mickey entered the trailer.

 

“Hey Lisa, Graham is on camera in five and he has a concealer emergency. He's freaking out, could you check it out?”

 

The girl nodded, and grabbed her portable make-up kit before running out of the trailer. Mickey locked the door behind her and walked to Ian. He took the redhead's face in his hands and kissed him softly.

 

“Please don't give up on me.” the producer asked against Ian's lips. “I'm just asking you to do that. We'll find a way to be together, I promise.”

 

Ian closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against Mickey's. He didn't want to say yes right away, he wanted to still be angry at Mickey, but only because it was easier than to face the terrible catastrophe that was his life. Yet, with the producer's breath fanning over his face, and their bodies so close to each other's, the redhead only had one answer to give.

 

“Okay. I trust you.”

 

________________

 

The three cameras, twenty crew members, Graham – the TV host – David, and Caleb were all staring at Ian. The redhead felt his palms sweat. He was supposed to choose Caleb. Caleb. It was easy, he just had to make his little 'no speech' to David, and then choose Caleb. Okay, he could do it. He took a deep breath.

 

“David.” he articulate, his mouth dry. “I think you are a great guy, and I had a very good time with you. Unfortunately... I do not think you are the right husband for me.”

 

Okay, one down. One more speech to make.

 

“Caleb.”

 

The man looked at Ian, his mouth forming a discreet winner smile. Ian's heart was beating out of his chest.

 

“Caleb.” he repeated. “You... You are probably perfect for me. You would have a great influence on my life, and would be a good husband to me.”

 

_Yes, just say yes, just say you'll marry him._

 

“But I can't marry you. I want to marry Mickey.”

 

The words had tumbled out of Ian's mouth before he could stop them.

 

“Who's Mickey?” Graham asked discreetly from the corner of his lips.

 

Ian ignored him and turned toward Camera B next to which Mickey was standing, and stared at the producer's wide-opened blue eyes.

 

“I love you. And if I have to choose, here and now, with which man I want to spend the rest of my life with, then it's you. I love you. And I'm pretty sure you're _the one_.”

 

________________

 

Mickey was frozen on his spot. The entire crew and cast around him was freaking out, Quinn was barking stuff he couldn't comprehend in his earpiece, and Ian was pouring his heart at him, not caring at all about their audience, or about the millions of viewers in front of their TV. The producer stayed like this for several minutes, not knowing what to do. At all. He had never been more lost in his entire life, and yet his next move seemed very obvious.

 

“Milkovich!” Quinn shouted again. “What the fuck is going on? Are you sabotaging my show? I swear I will fire your ass! What have you done with our suitor? Milkovich!!! Answer me!”

 

Mickey ran his hand on his walkie, keeping his eyes on Ian's. And suddenly, when the redhead smiled shyly, the producer was unfrozen.

 

“Fuck this shit!”

 

He grabbed the device at his belt, and the other in his ear, and threw them both on the ground, before walking, no running, to Ian, and he jumped in his arms like the heroine of some shitty rom-com, kissing the redhead with as much passion as he could muster. After a good five minutes of the two men making their tongues dancing together, and the crew just standing around awkwardly, Mickey pulled away, keeping his arms securely around Ian and their chests flushed against each other's.

 

“I love you too.”

 

________________

 

“Mick come on! It's starting!”

 

Ian, sitting crossed-legged on his couch, a giant bowl of pop-corn securely resting between his thighs, had been calling for his husband for a good ten minutes now. The grumpy producer dragged his feet into the living room and sat on his usual spot between two comfy pillows, before burying his hand into the bowl to grab a mouthful of pop-corn he brought to his lips.

 

“Why do you want to watch this shit anyway?” he asked, waving at the TV and sending some of the food flying around.

 

“Because it's fun!” Ian answered enthusiastically, taking the remote to turn the volume up.

 

Graham appeared on screen, walking in front of a very familiar mansion, followed by the camera.

 

“Welcome to Happily Ever After eleventh season!” he announced proudly, looking straight at the viewers.

 

“How hot do you think the suitor is this year?” Ian asked eagerly.

 

“He will never be as hot as last year's.” Mickey replied, sending a wink and waving suggestive eyebrows at his husband.

 

“Yeah,” Ian agreed. “You're very lucky you married him.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Be honest with me, how was it?
> 
> Also, I loved the Chicago scenes, and the fact that, yes, Ian is initially going there to meet Caleb's family, but he ends up meeting also, and more importantly, Mickey's family. I'm so proud of myself on this one. ;)
> 
> Anyway, enough self-congratulating crap.  
> Please leave kudos, comments, and talk with me on my [tumblr](http://ilostmylifeonline.tumblr.com/), I love hearing from you :)


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